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Where we came from…

by Ashe Vagabond of the Vagabond Express

I haven’t posted anything on here in so long. I was recently involved in a torrent love affair with an “exotic” man who I now am sure was a sociopath (seriously). I neglected most of my passions over the past few months as a result and am only now getting back into the swing of things. This post is still about being a vagabond, but with a twist.

It’s about where we came from, not where we are going.

A vagabond is always moving, full of experiences but empty of assumptions upon entering a foreign land (our experiences taught us better). Vagabonds move constantly. We embrace change. We understand that nothing (nearly) is permanent. We can surf the tide of an uncertain journey with tenacious grace. We can get by with or without public toilets, ATM machines, knowledge of the local language, itinerary, razors, and tourist guides. We are free spirits, ever new and ever evolving with a fluent horizon of various colors.

But make no mistake. We came from somewhere. A vagabond carries inside herself or himself a vast array of cultures and experiences accumulated over the years. And do not underestimate the way this effects a person’s character. Their quality of spirit. Their fortitude of heart. To those potholes in the road, like the one I stumbled in in Istanbul, Turkey, I want to remind the wretched holes and my fellow vagabonds that these are the times when our journey is teaching us what we set out to learn: the hard truths of life. These are the experiences that mold us into magnificently unique and able creatures.

When you face the most tormenting of challenges during your adventure, do what vagabonds do best: move on. Throw it behind you like a stepping stone. Extract its meaning and power, master its lesson, and then become a greater animal because of it. WE SET OUT seeking these lessons. WE ARE DRIVEN by our need to know more about existence, the world, and ourselves. WE REACH FOR dark corners and light expanses in one breath, so when that moment comes that you find yourself in a conundrum of challenge, thank your lucky stars, for you’ve encountered one of the great teachers on your quest for personal revolution.

My great teacher was a lying, manipulative, abusive sociopath. This teacher attempted to erase all I am and ever was and turn me into nothing but a stone in his collection of dead and motionless furniture. But, one of my heroines from Game of Thrones had a great response to her late husband’s second in command, as he tells her that when her husband, the king, dies, she will be nothing and everyone will turn on her. She replied, “I can never be nothing. I am the blood of the dragon.” (By the way, if you haven’t seen Game of Thrones, you seriously need to get on it. Now!)

When I look back to where I came from, I remember days and days of lessons, experiences, stepping stones, accomplishments, challenges, glimpses of paradise, intellectual standing ovations, and mistakes too. From all this, I come. Full to the brim with an evolutionary being, I come. Brazen with a deep sea of perspective that has seen various people across various lands with various beliefs and systems and hopes and dreams and nightmares and anguish. I see through the spectacles of wisdom that can only be gained when one is bold enough to let go of their pride and become a humble student of life.

Something a sociopath can never be. (This is a fact. Sociopaths, due to their lack of conscience, are unable to learn from mistakes, and therefore never get the chance to grow. There’s a lot of literature and research on this topic. Those born blind will never see.)

So, this I say to the sociopath. You didn’t kill me, though you tried, even if through your vicious teeth you often threatened. You didn’t conquer me. You didn’t end me. Every facet of agony you drug my soul through was but a long novel, its pages overflowing with rich, vivacious wisdom. Not because you were wise. Don’t get me wrong. But your torture reminded me with valiant assertion that you cannot DESTROY something IMMORTAL, for THAT is what the PAST is. That is where I CAME from, and it stands like the beautiful old dome across the cobble stone path from me at this moment.

I sit huddled over my laptop, as usual, in a quaint cafe in an historical German city. Across from me is what I currently believe to be the most beautiful piece of architecture that I have ever seen in my life. And behind me is my story.

So, vagabonds, as important as it is to keep looking ahead to the new landscapes of where we are going, perhaps today, upon reading this clip of words I’ve launched into cyber-space, you will be inspired to look behind yourself and remember where you came from.